


For that, I'll say

by zanni_scaramouche



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ficlet, Good God, Harry-centric, M/M, Not all at once!, thank u next inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanni_scaramouche/pseuds/zanni_scaramouche
Summary: Thank you, nextHarry's experience with love, patience, and pain
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne/Harry Styles, Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	For that, I'll say

You hear him before you see him. A boyish laugh echoes through the halls and begs curiosity about the grand joke you’ve missed. There’s no missing this boy. His shock of blond hair is thrown back, mouth wide like it's never done anything but smile, round cheeks flush and eyes bursting with life. You turn away as your pulse rockets from only a glimpse. He’s the sun, too bright to look directly at for long without going blind. He lends you a pencil in history. Gives you a cheeky wink and nudge to the shoulder when he catches you looking. 

Your first kiss was messy, sweaty palms and nervous laughter as you figured it out together. He tasted like summer, like sugar and firecrackers. Nights spent running wild through the streets pretending you could fly into the sky and become brilliant stars, ever-burning. Learning how the heat of skin against yours makes you come alive and yearn in a way you never knew possible. He presses sweet words into your skin, holds you with gentle affection in his eyes. The honesty in him is too much sometimes. You duck your head at the unabashed way in which he adores you. 

You hold hands on the walk home, play footsie under the table in the library, kiss behind the bleachers. You are sixteen and a cliche and you love it. You love him. You love him the most when he tells you it’s okay to leave. 

“You’re meant for more than this town, Harry.” 

You have your eyes set on the city. The world. Niall has the dust of this place settled into his bones. He loves this small town that’s a cage to you, and he never holds that against you, but he can’t change it either. Your parting is sad and sweet and you shake in each other's arms. He never asks you to stay and you never ask him to come with. 

The city is big. Like, really fucking big compared to the sleepy streets you used to bike down and you're drowning in its commotion. Liam steadies you. He’s gentle and kind and focussed. He is absolutely the cutest thing when he holds the door open for you on the first date. He’s an anchor in the whirlwind of change as you settle into student life. The school years come on quick and harsh. Liam’s busy with his major, and you’re busy with classes, and you both have to fit work and sleep in there somewhere. It takes effort to see each other. You’re restless about it, desperate for every second with him, want him to be the same. Why isn’t he? Doesn’t he think about you while highlighting text books and squinting at the fine print on his professors slides? You miss love being easy.

“I won't love you any less just ‘cause we don’t kiss every six hours.” 

Your cheeks go pink at being called out on it. You can’t help how bursting with it you are, but you start to learn. When you’re squirming in your seat at the thought of him you manage to gather it up and tuck it aside, focusing on the guitar in your lap. It pours out all at once when you collide. His hands are solid, steady, a sure thing as they hold you down. These moments are intense and consuming and so, so worth the wait. His touch is unwavering and you have never trusted anyone so much in your life to catch you. Literally. You run and jump and his hands are on your arse not a moment too soon.

When he graduates you’re in the middle of establishing yourself in the local scene, people starting to recognize your name on the open mic night signs. Not to mention your last year of courses. There’s no justifying following him and his internship halfway across the country when it’d ruin everything you’ve worked for. It’s weird being the one to stay. You both try to make long distance work for a bit. Without the collision it’s not the same, just patience without the reward. You mutually let things fade. 

It’s uh- Well, Zayn’s a bit different. You know he’s going to hurt the first time you meet. The club is too dark and the music is too loud and you’re celebrating graduation so you’re indulging yourself. No harm in looking, but the way he’s eyeing you says that's not all he’s gonna do. It’s quick and viscous and so fucking nasty pressed against the stall. You leave with his name in your phone and bruises on your hips, the skin of your lips torn. You shouldn't get attached to something as violent as him. 

If Niall was the sun and Liam an anchor, Zayn is lightning. His love is fast and burns hot, and it leaves scorched earth in its wake. He’s on the edge of too much-too much, and yet you crave more the second he leaves. He’s a bad idea wrapped up in bold ink and leather. 

You spend too long trying to impress him and too much time being available. He’s quick to change his mind and easy to upset and a touch too cutting with his ridicule. But his eyes, god, his face. His body. Every time he touches you it comes with the adrenaline of jumping out of a speeding car. You know you're in trouble, but you’re addicted. 

“Babe, it was nothing serious.” He tells you after weeks of whispering dirty love in your ear. You’re left shredded to pieces. You knew better. You saw it coming before you saw the girl pressed against him. Doesn’t make it any easier. 

You focus on yourself. You’re playing in larger bars, composing better songs now that you know about love and sex and how to play an actual instrument. You get your own flat, spend time with friends, call your family once a week. You’re living the dream life. You don’t need someone, you’re a complete meal. You’re going to smash being single. Look at you, buying the expensive coffee even though you can’t tell the difference and power walking down the street and feeling- hot. Burning. Steaming coffee all down the front of your favourite white blouse with the high collar. And then you’re drowning in blue blue blue eyes that remind you of home. 

“Shit buggering fuck,” the thickest accent you’ve heard this far south, so foreign it obliterates any memory you’d dared to conjure and shoves you roughly into this moment. “Lemme get you ‘nother one mate. I got,” he starts fussing with his gym bag and shuffling past you towards the shop, “I got a footie jersey you can toss on. No judgin’ the state of it, I gather anything’s better than the piss covered..." he motions vaguely at the lace "frock."

The man’s messy brown locks are nothing like Niall’s, his nervous bouncing nothing like the cool reserve of Liam, and his teasing smile is nothing like the cruel slant of Zayn. 

You can do nothing but follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Still getting used to my new home in the 1D fandom. This place is neat but I feel like I'm walking a well worn road that is now deserted :'( Where you at?? 
> 
> Had fun on this little gem, spent maybe two hours doodling away at it. You know you sung the song ;) I've got a big project on the go but wanted to pump something out just to have fun. Got this little penchant for second person that will _not_ go away! 
> 
> Find graphics for this & all my stories on my tumblr  
> https://zanniscaramouche.tumblr.com/post/190962768256/for-that-ill-say-thank-you-next-harrys
> 
> Thoughts & comments & love are always appreciated <3


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